Persistence of Memory
by JolieFille
Summary: It seemed he wasn’t meant to have true love. Sure, he craved it liked everyone else, but life had dubbed him “The Boy Who Lived” and “The Chosen One” before he had even become of age. Illfated people like him always ended up alone.


A/N: I never liked the Ginny/Harry pairing, and I've never liked Ginny's character. After one go at Half-Blood Prince, I hated her. However, I reread it a few months ago, and she grew on me a little. Just a little though. She's tolerable, and I no longer ask myself "What could Harry possibly see in her?" So here it is, my badly-written (I seriously loathe this piece, but I just wanted to get it out of my system), my homage to the wonder that is Harry/Ginny:

**Persistence of Memory**

_It seemed to be like the perfect thing for you and me_  
_It's so ironic you're what I had pictured you to be_  
_But there are facts in our lives_  
_We can never change_  
_Just tell me that you understand and you feel the same_  
_This perfect romance that I've created in my mind_  
_I'd live a thousand lives_  
_Each one with you right by my side_  
_But yet we find ourselves in a less than perfect circumstance_  
_And so it seems like we'll never have the chance_

It had been a few hours since Dumbledore's funeral. Harry was back in his dormitory packing his belongings for the last time at Hogwarts. He was done here. Dumbledore was gone, and there were bigger things for him waiting outside the sheltered walls of Hogwarts.

Harry smiled ruefully as he dumped his uniform into his trunk. Sheltered. Right.

Hogwarts had never actually been a safe place; it only seemed so because Dumbledore was there. And now that he was gone there was little point in staying. What was Harry there for anyway but to train himself to fight Voldemort? And he was trained enough. A bit presumptuous to assume, Harry knew, and he felt a little guilty for leaving his school—his_ home_—on the grounds that he didn't need schooling anymore.

With the last of his clothes packed away in his trunk, Harry headed to his nightstand where he had stacked a few of his schoolbooks. Scratch that. Hogwarts wasn't really home. Not anymore. Not without Dumbledore.

Harry frowned as he tossed _The Standard Book of Spells_ into his trunk. He was more attached to Dumbledore than he had thought.

Reaching for the last book on his nightstand, Harry stopped short when he saw the book he had picked up. It was a tatty copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_. Property of the Half-Blood Prince. Harry felt his jaw tighten as he held the book, Snape's voice ringing in his head.

_"I am the half blood prince!"_ he had shouted at Harry a few days earlier, just before he, Draco, and the rest of the death eaters had run off after battling the Order of the Phoenix in Hogwarts.

Harry clutched his potions book for a moment, and then threw it into his trunk along with his other belongings. He couldn't bring himself to throw it away. He hated Snape and vowed to find a way to make him pay for murdering Dumbledore, but he just couldn't toss out that book of his. Not because he actually wanted the book, because he certainly didn't. It had been incredibly useful to him in potions the whole year, but he had found himself somewhat attached to the half-blood prince and his ingenuity with spells and potions. He wanted to know more about him, learn what kind of person he was. But now that he knew who the previous owner of _Advanced Potion-Making_ had been, Harry felt slightly violated. To think that he had been curious about—mildly attached to—the likes of Snape…he should throw the book out, yet he couldn't. Harry didn't like to think himself a sentimental person, but it seemed he was becoming one more and more every day, even if it was with inanimate objects. He briefly thought back to his Nimbus 2000 that had been destroyed by the Whomping Willow a few years back. He kept the pieces of his old broomstick under his bed back on Privet Drive, occasionally wondering if Aunt Petunia would throw them out if she had discovered them while cleaning.

Of course, he was attached to his Nimbus 2000 in a whole other way. The same way muggles got attached to their first cars. But his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making _was a whole other sort of attachment. It was once the possession of his enemy, an enemy he would definitely see again. Keeping the book felt something like a reassurance that he, Harry, would get even with Snape and avenge Dumbledore.

Harry shuddered as he locked his trunk. Using inanimate objects to represent his disdain and desire to take on his enemies. How very Voldemort of him.

You are not Voldemort, Harry told himself resolutely. He sat on his trunk, and cupping his face in his hands he sighed. They had been through this many times, he and Dumbledore. Yes, they had a lot in common, but Harry Potter did not equal Lord Voldemort. He knew that. Voldemort was evil and horrible and never knew love. Harry, while he didn't want to flatter himself by calling himself pure, as Dumbledore had said many days ago, was definitely not tempted by the evils which Voldemort had been seduced by. And Harry certainly knew love. He had friends, he had parents who had literally loved him to death, and he had Ginny. Harry felt his stomach go into a knot as he thought of her. Oh, how he knew love there…

_Ain't it funny how some feelings you just can't deny__  
__And you can't move on even though you try__  
__Ain't it strange when you're feeling things you shouldn't feel__  
__Oh, I wish this could be real__  
__Ain't it funny how a moment could just change your life__  
__And you don't want to face what's wrong or right__  
__Ain't it strange how fate can play a part__  
__In the story of your heart_

He had never come out and told Ginny he loved her; he honestly wasn't even sure if he did. Of course, he loved her the way he loved the Weasleys—they were wonderful, caring people who ought to be loved on sheer principle—but he wasn't sure if he loved her in any other way. Maybe he did. He was certainly willing to find out—that is, until three days ago.

He couldn't afford to love her, not after what happened at Hogwarts. Not after Draco attempted to kill Dumbledore, only to have Snape do the job for him instead. He couldn't love Ginny while a war was going on and Voldemort was triumphantly waving his flag of hate. And especially not when it was Harry who had to defeat this man or at least die in the struggle. He knew it sounded clichéd, but he thought it anyway: it wasn't fair to him, and it wasn't fair to Ginny.

It was the right decision, breaking up with her. He definitely cared for Ginny, but considering the circumstances…after seeing Dumbledore die, after seeing Sirius die, it was best for Harry and Ginny to stay apart. He wasn't ready to let Voldemort use her as any sort of leverage or bate. He wasn't ready to take that sort of chance with her. She would have to be forgotten.

_Sometimes I think that a true love can never be_  
_I just believe that somehow it wasn't meant for me_  
_Life can be cruel in a way that I can't explain_  
_And I don't think that I could face it all again_  
_I barely know you but somehow I know what you're about_  
_A deeper love I've found in you_  
_And I no longer doubt_  
_You've touched my heart and it altered every plan I've made_  
_And now I feel that I don't have to be afraid_

Memory was an unusual thing. It often slipped at the worst possible moments—in the middle of an exam, it was easy to forget scraps of information that were desperately crammed into the brain days before. And more often than not memory forced a person to remember undesirable things that one might have wanted to forget. For instance, the following day, Harry had found himself boarding the Hogwarts Express one final time, feeling desirous to get as far away from the school as possible as soon as possible, yet wanting run back to the castle to walk through it once more. He wanted to forget the horrible look in Snape's eyes as he killed Dumbledore. He wanted to forget Snape's manic shrieks of protest when Harry accused him of being a coward. He wanted to forget the brief, uncomfortable moment in the hospital wing where he had witnessed a grieving Lupin for the first time. Most of all he wanted to forget about the past few weeks he had spent with Ginny. Yet the persistence of memory would not allow Harry to forget quickly. Quite the contrary, it seemed to poke mercilessly at Harry.

He had only had a few weeks with her, he thought to himself as he walked mechanically up the steps of the train and down the aisles in search of an empty compartment. He found himself growing irritable. Why had he wasted his time liking Cho Chang? Why hadn't he thought of Ginny earlier? She had liked him even when they were younger, and Harry had known all along…why didn't he do anything then? He could have spent more time with her—at least a few years. But it seemed their ill-fated relationship was destined to last as briefly as it had. Probably for the best anyway, Harry thought as he found an empty compartment and slid into it, drawing the curtains over the window for privacy as he shut the door.

_Ain't it funny how some feelings you just can't deny__  
__And you can't move on even though you try__  
__Ain't it strange when your feeling things you shouldn't feel__  
__Oh, I wish this could be real__  
__Ain't it funny how a moment could just change your life__  
__And you don't want to face what's wrong or right__  
__Ain't it strange how fate can play a part__  
__In the story of your heart_

It really was for the best. After all, Harry had been entrusted with the task of finding the remaining and destroying Voldemort's remaining horcruxes. And kill Voldemort too if he possibly could. So breaking things off with Ginny was the only sensible thing to do. Men on missions never had girlfriends. Even the muggle, fictional spy who Aunt Petunia had a crush on—Jame Bond—never had a girlfriend. He had women, but never relationships. There just wasn't enough time for those, and too much to lose. Too much had already been lost as it was. Lives had already been lost in this war against Voldemort. And while Harry hated to think it, he knew there was more blood to be spilt. He shuddered to imagine it belonging to anyone he knew, but it was an inescapable and very real possibility, and for that he felt glad for ending his relationship with Ginny. He only wondered what would become of them when the war ended. Would their relationship prevail or would it lie in the dust forever?

Harry leaned back in his seat, watching as the scenery through the window began to blur as the train slowly picked up speed. He already knew the answer to that question.

It seemed he wasn't meant to have true love. Sure, he craved it liked everyone else, but life had dubbed him "The Boy Who Lived" and "The Chosen One" before he had even become of age. Ill-fated people like him always ended up alone. In all honesty he didn't really have any proof to back himself up, but it was a fate that he could easily envision for himself. Harry had no idea how long it was going to take to find and destroy all of Voldemort's remaining horcruxes and kill Voldemort himself, or if he would even survive such tasks, but he felt sure that whatever he did manage to survive would mentally and emotionally drain him. He couldn't see himself having the strength and stability to romance anyone—he would be too tired. Too worn.

_I locked away my heart_  
_But you just set it free_  
_Emotions I felt_  
_Held me back from what my life should be_  
_I pushed you far away_  
_And yet you stayed with me_  
_I guess this means_  
_That you and me were meant to be_

Harry's compartment door slid open; Ginny had peeked her head inside.

"Can I join you for a minute?" she asked.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at her. So much for forgetting about her. "Sure. Come on in."

Ginny opened the door a bit wider and let herself in. Quietly shutting the door behind her, she took a seat across from Harry. He glanced up at her expectantly, watching as she folded her hands in her lap, staring straight at Harry. She smiled.

"Luna was in the other compartment explaining various myths about freshwater gillyweed and the ministry's well-known attempts to kill off merpeople with poisoned gillyweed to Neville. I needed to get out of there."

Harry laughed. "Got to love that Luna."

Ginny nodded, her smile broadening slightly. "She's very loveable."

There was a long moment of silence between the two of them, where Ginny dropped her gaze to her lap and began knotting her fingers while Harry watched nervously. He wasn't sure what she was doing there with him. Tying up loose ends? Only there were no loose ends to tie; Harry had been pretty clear about his desire break up with Ginny to protect her. Or was she attempting to bring their friendship back to the status quo by acting as if they had never dated?

"I'm assuming you haven't changed your mind since yesterday." She started abruptly. Her smile had melted away, but her countenance remained soft.

Harry smiled a little. "I haven't. I'm sorry."

Ginny shook her head, and immediately got up and took a seat next to Harry. "Don't apologize to me," she said, reaching for his hand and letting her own fingers interlock with his. "I understand. I told you yesterday that I understand."

Harry nodded. "So…why did you come back to see me?"

She pulled her hand out of Harry's grasp and sat up straighter. "Because I know you. And I know you're going to use this whole saving-the-world business to push me away from you. I just wanted you to know that you don't have to."

He sighed. "Yes, I have to—"

"No you don't," Ginny cut in, her voice rising slightly. "You tried doing the same with Ron and Hermione. You tried doing the same last year when we had the D.A. and you didn't want any of us helping you in the department of mysteries, and you're doing it again with me. Harry, you _have_ to get it through that thick head of yours that you're not alone. You have your friends."

"I know." Harry said automatically.

"And you have me." She added. "I know you don't want us to date, and I understand that, but you'll still have me. I just wanted you to know that."

Harry nodded, and with that Ginny stood up and left the compartment. He sighed and leaned back in his seat again, staring at his hand that Ginny had held only moments ago. Funny how brief moments like that could just change one's life. He still had no way of knowing whether or not he and Ginny were meant to be, but he now felt certain that he had a shot at finding out.

_Ain't it funny how some feelings you just can't deny_  
_And you can't move on even though you try_  
_Ain't it strange when your feeling things you shouldn't feel_  
_Oh, I wish this could be real_  
_Ain't it funny how a moment could just change your life_  
_And you don't want to face what's wrong or right_  
_Ain't it strange how fate can play a part_  
_In the story of your heart_

Lyrics: "Aint it Funny" by Jennifer Lopez


End file.
